Interesting comparison. Ridicule may also utterly miss the mark. But if a scientist and philosopher with the stature of Leibniz bluntly poses that we live in "the best of all possible worlds", I'd say a little satire is called for. (I'm not sure how Leibniz, in an attempt to reconcile evil, suffering and injustice with free will, God's own free will and God's apparent omnibenevolence, omnpotence and omniscience, can come up with the conclusion that we then must be living in the best of all possible worlds. Such a conclusion would such suggest something wrong with the premises.) Voltaire ridicules religion, theologians, governments, armies, philosophies, and philosophers in general though. So perhaps we live in the best of all possible world for satirists.
As an afternote: as Leibniz published his treatise as Essais de Théodicée sur la bonté de Dieu, la liberté de l'homme et l'origine du mal (Essays on Theodicy, concerning the goodness of God, the freedom of man, and the origin of evil) it is possible that Voltaire, who knew French - and English and German - and was well-read, was familiar with the original. However, in the satirical narrative of Candide the protagonist Pangloss is a mere archetype. At any rate, despite it being widely banned for its content, the novella enjoyed huge success and is probably Voltaire's most read work.
Well... if you
read the
Theodicy as well as quoting its entire title in French you can find out for yourself how Leibniz managed to maintain his view. As for Voltaire, I am no expert on him, but as I understand it, although he was perfectly capable of reading Leibniz, he didn't. In fact very few people read Leibniz in the eighteenth century. Voltaire would have known of "Leibnizian optimism" primarily through the works of Wolff, which were much more widely read. To him, "Leibniz" is just a name associated with the doctrines of maximal perfection and the principle of sufficient reason. And he obviously didn't understand the principle of sufficient reason either, at least judging by the way he goes on about it in
Candide. If Voltaire really did read Leibniz then he was either too stupid to understand him or too dishonest to have any intention of treating his ideas fairly. Since Voltaire was obviously neither stupid nor notably dishonest, I'll take the charitable interpretation of guessing that he wasn't familiar with Leibniz first-hand.
Satire may be considered as a blunt instrument for some, while for others may see it as something a necessary tool to provoke a change in the direction on whatever it may be.
Maybe so. But then we're leaving the territory of rational argument and moving into that of political or quasi-political action. And that may be a good thing or it may not - but it's not what I'm interested in here.
Not a lot of intellectuals during that time knew Leibnitz fully since most of his unpublished materials was not discovered until later in the 20th century. I suppose he didn't want some of his materials to be somewhat offensive to certain noble families that he had worked for.
They're still publishing Leibniz' works. I believe they reckon they'll be done by about 2050. However, his most important ideas were certainly readily available to anyone who wanted to read them in the eighteenth century or indeed during Leibniz' own lifetime, in the form of many published papers and of course the
Theodicy, which despite its well deserved reputation for dullness does actually encapsulate an awful lot of Leibniz' key ideas. Leibniz himself certainly thought so, since he annotated his
Monadology to refer to parallel passages in the longer work. His theories of pre-established harmony, maximal perfection, and all the other things were well known and available. The notion that Leibniz deliberately suppressed his more interesting ideas for fear of annoying influential patrons or theologians was put about by Russell and was comprehensively debunked decades ago; it's unfortunate that Russell's prestige means that one still encounters this claim today.
I am curious as to why you see that Voltaire's Candide is not an accurate attack against Leibnitz's view of we live in the best of all possible worlds.
The views attacked in
Candide are so far from an accurate representation of the real Leibniz that if his name weren't mentioned in the book, I don't think anyone familiar with the real Leibniz would even guess that he's the subject of the satire. In brief, Leibniz believed that the actual world is the best, metaphysically speaking. This means a number of things. It means that it is the world that contains the most moral goodness (this is not the same thing as happiness). It is also the world that contains the most amount of "stuff" (a world with lots of things in it is metaphysically preferable to a mostly empty one). It is also the world with the simplest natural laws, which are productive of the greatest amount of phenomena (the most "fruitful" laws). Now scholars disagree over how Leibniz thinks that these various criteria relate to each other: are they the same criterion expressed in different ways? If they're different, how does Leibniz explain that one and the same possible world happens to instantiate all of them to the maximal degree? Or does Leibniz think that there's a sort of trade-off - the best possible world is the one that instantiates all of them to the greatest possible degree, but not each of them (individually) to the greatest possible degree? And so on. There is also the question whether Leibniz thinks that the actual world is the best
by definition without having recourse to the goodness of God. He conceives of possible worlds as clumps of compossible objects. That is, all possible objects could exist, but not all of them could exist together ("Peter, the tallest man in the world" is possible, and so is "Paul, the tallest man in the world", but they are not compossible, that is, they could not both exist; they are therefore members of different possible worlds). For any given possible object, it forms a possible world with all the other possible objects that are compossible with it. Now these "clumps" are of different sizes (they contain different numbers of possible objects). Some of Leibniz' texts suggest a picture according to which all possible beings have a natural tendency to exist (this is known, in rather baroque fashion, as the Doctrine of the Striving Possibles). Given this, Leibniz suggests that the biggest clump of compossibles will naturally and inevitably shoulder the others out of the way, as it were. The largest possible world will exist by sheer force of mass, just as a droplet of water will naturally form into a sphere. On this view, the "best possible world" is the one that contains the most compossible objects (actually an infinite number of them, according to Leibniz' theory of monads) and it is the actual world pretty much by definition. Whether this is compatible with Leibniz' talk of God choosing the best possible world out of an infinitely large selection and deciding to actualise it is a matter of considerable debate.
Much of the
Theodicy is devoted to arguing for the principle of the best (whatever, precisely, it is) and defending it from objections. The basic argument, though, as it appears in the
Theodicy, is very simple: God, by definition, always does what is best; God created the universe; therefore the universe is as good as it could possibly be. Personally I'd agree that if you accept these premises, the conclusion follows, or probably does. JEELEN points out rightly that one might just as well suppose that since the conclusion is probably false, the premises probably are as well. But of course Leibniz would not have accepted such an argument, since he thought that God's existence could be proved, and that in many ways.
Voltaire thinks that the principle of the best means simply that every individual thing that happens in the world is the best thing that could have happened at that point, "best" being taken in a simplistic sense of most happiness-producing. That, at least, is how he seems to characterise it in
Candide. Obviously this has pretty much nothing whatsoever to do with what Leibniz said. It may have more to do with what Wolff said (I don't know much about Wolff) but I should think it unlikely.